Gangsta's Paradise
by Eileen-86
Summary: Isabella Swan, a commissioner of NYPD and Edward Cullen, a convict of the state prison in New Jersey meets each other in the unusual circumstances. Is this enough for them to wipe off the past? / B&E, rated M for language and lemons!


**Summary**:

_Isabella Swan, a commissioner of the Department for Organized Crime (NYPD) and Edward Cullen, a convict of the state prison in New Jersey meets each other in the unusual circumstances. They set up a common understanding, a kind of agreement by which each one of them gets the opportunity to achieve spiritual freedom. Is this enough for Edward to wipe off a careless mistake of his youth? Is that a sufficient incentive for Bella to get rid of her prejudices against the lower classes? You will know all of this if you follow the adventures of our characters, whose love meets the past..._

**Rating:**

**M** for language and lemons, AU/AH. You've been warned!

**Genre:**

Angst, Drama, Romance

Stephenie Meyer** owns ****all things **Twilight**. **The remaining content is **all mine. **No copying or reproductionof this work** is permitted **without my express written authorization**.**

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I'm a Polish girl, so there may be some errors, but I hope I did it all as well as I could. This story is **also available in Polish** (where it has got many, many, many fans - thank you, guys! I love you!) and now, cause it's time to present you, it **is translated** for you **into English**.

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**Prologue**

''Maybe God wants you to know a lot of wrong people before you know the right one, so when you finally meet him you'll know how to be**.**''

**Gabriel García Marquéz**

**Written by: Eileen  
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An usual dark room. A cardboard box hides in there. A plastic bag, with a worn toy put in it, lies in the box. A child, who played with the toy, used to love it with some kind of special, inarticulate in the simple human words innocent feeling. You can be sure of one thing – a loyalty of this child wouldn't be replaced by any of well known adult passions. The girl, because it is she who is the owner of a teddy bear, loves it more than an incomplete family, where she grew up. What is actually remembered by a petite brunette with a distant childhood days? A gray yard placed somewhere in the New York City and a dirt laid in the stairwell? Or thirty square feet apartment situated in an old, worn building placed on the outskirts of Brooklyn?

But she remembers one thing – the eternal, unending war of gangs and a silver gun lying in the top drawer of her father's cabinet. The picture of the gun has fallen deeply in memory of this girl because of its cold, smooth and streamlined shape. The skinny brunette and the revolver know each other very well. They took a common ritual of hiding under the bed, whenever the girl was afraid. And it happened very often. Who was her mother? A loquacious woman with trembling hands. Distant. Eternally absent. Just a shadow among the memories. And her father? Quiet, always silent man with principles. Yes, you're right. Once, when the world had got some rights, there was no such thing as principle. Unbelievable, huh?  
The plush toy looks pathetic. It lacks the left beaded eye and a sizable portion of the shabby coat on its belly. However, what attracts the attention of the viewer is primarily a number of pins adorning every free part of the corpus material. All of them symbolize something. Fear, tears, a night spent under the bed...

Now, after this girl isn't remained even a trace. The brunette with mouse hair has grown into a mature woman who forgot about the teddy bear and her growing up in fear. Today, Bella Swan ventures to the slums only of professional motives. The prosecution of criminals is more than her life. It's her _destiny_.

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Five square meters. So much and very little at the same time. For some people – their all lives; for others – only a further indication of measurement of the surface. Two and a half to two. It's the private end of your world, when your only home is the Northern State Prison in New Jersey.  
One of the two thousand seven hundred and two. So much and very little at the same time. Few, if you belong to a population of free Americans. A lot, if you are the part of a team of the criminals insulated from your society.

A solitary cell without expression, painted with a gray oil paint. A sink, a bed and a squalid toilet seat are the only facilities of this cell. No embellishments, no whim, simply prisoner's room.

But even in this place, there is something that immediately catches the eye of a penetrative observer who peeks there through the iron gratings. Near the makeshift dressing table is a chair on which one of the lost souls created the private temple, a refuge of its normalcy and humanity. On the back of the wooden seat hangs a silver medal with the image of Our Lady of Fatima. On the worn oak counter someone put a color photograph. The photo shows a beautiful woman with long, wavy, chestnut hair who laughs at a viewer with the one of the famous Hollywood smiles. She has got the hypnotic green eyes – being a shade of the emerald twisted in perfect proportion with the color of the juicy spring grass. The beauty of this girl is intimidating, overwhelming and takes the breath of the viewer. In the hands of the woman from the photograph lies a small, smiling boy. The child counts less than four years old, but is mature beyond the years. A toddler is cup in cup similar to his own mother. He has got the same emerald iris, lovely auburn curls and dimples appearing on his cheeks, so evident when the little boy laughs. The inscription says: ''Elizabeth and Eddie; August, 1988th''.

Today, twenty-five years old Edward Cullen is the only inhabitant of this cell. But you have just profaned his temple of normalcy, his personal pass to the ordinary life with your presence...

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**N:/ To be continued - if you'll like it:) I'm looking for a good beta reader (English of course). Please, let me know, if you are interested.  
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